The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia

by Philip Sidney

Pamela would fain have flattered herself to think that it was Musidorus come to deliver her, but she had rather have still remained captive than to have drawn him to such a danger for her delivery; and having once apprehended that he was there, never a blow was given but that she was wounded with it, being ever sorry for the overthrown, never glad for the overthrower; either pity prevailing with the tenderness of her sex, or because she knew no danger could come by overcoming.

As for Philoclea, she who through the gentleness of her own nature would have smarted for any other who had been in danger, when she remembered the hazard of her treasure Zelmane, who, as she knew, did not use to be an idle spectator of so earnest a game, a multitude of thoughts, without art artificial, did paint fear in her face, and engrave grief in her bosom. Whilst they continued thus, Pamela, in vain striving to match majesty with affection, stood with a distracted stateliness, and with a stately astonishment, where grief and fear in Philoclea made easily a consort in sorrow, with watery eyes, like the sun shining in a shower, weakly clearing a cloudy countenance; when suddenly they heard one cry, since the castle was won to set the ladies at liberty; but they who were well acquainted both with the frowns and smiles of fortune, as they had ever triumphed over the one, would not suffer themselves to be led captives by the other; neither could this accomplish their contentment, till they had the lords of that pleasant bondage, which they did value more than unvaluable liberty; the constrained activity of the body having nothing diminished the voluntary thraldom of the mind.

But ah! this smooth calm came only to make them the more sensible of the succeeding tempest, which the breath of one from below, roaring forth the death of Zelmane, did thunder up upon them. Pamela (like a rock amidst the sea, beaten both with the winds and with the waves, yet itself immoveable) did receive this rigorous charge with a constant, though sad countenance, and with fixed eyes witnessing the moving of her mind, yet neither uttering word, nor tear, as disdaining to employ their weakness in so great a grief. Such might have been the gesture of Niobe hearing the news of her children’s death, ere she was metamorphosed into a stone; like one, majesty triumphing over misery, who would rather burst strongly within than be disburdened by bursting out in an abject manner.

But, ah me, the confounded Philoclea, who, being the weaker, had received the sharpest assault, an affectionate fury forcing from her an absolute passion, which a dutiful kindness through compassion only provoked in her sister, she, smothered with so monstrous a weight, did sink down under it to the earth.

This made Pamela forget her other grief without any comfort, transferring her affection from her friend to her more than friendly sister; for whom she saw at that time her care might be more serviceable, wherewith she brought her to herself, and she herself to sorrow. At first the tongue and the eyes being too feeble instruments for so violent a passion, she used her hands, beating that breast which the most barbarous creature else in the world could not have done; offering those torn hairs as oblations to him after death, which had been the delights of his life; and deforming that face, the register of nature’s wonders, confirmed by the admiration of men. Which when Pamela, of a patient became a physician, sought to hinder, she thus said: “Alas! sister, you do not know what a treasure I have lost, even a treasure more worth than all the world was worthy to enjoy. Ah, pardon me thou, whom even death is not able to kill in my soul: pardon me, who have ever concealed thy secret, now to discover mine own, for while my life lasts, short may it be, and long it shall not be, I will show to all the world that, which, whilst thou livedst, I would have been ashamed to have shown to thyself even thy perfection and mine affection. Neither do I regard how the conceits of others censure my carriage in this; for there is no eye now, wherein I desire to appear precious, nor no opinion, whereof I crave to make a purchase; death may end my life, but not my love, which, as it is infinite, must be immortal. I would gladly use means to dispatch this miserable life; but it were a shame for me, if, after so great a disaster, sorrow only were not sufficient to kill me.” And with that beauty in the heaven of her face, two suns eclipsed, being wrapped up in paleness, she fell down grovelling on the ground.

Pyrocles, imagining what report might be made, and not doubting what effect it would work, bent to furnish physic for her mind, ere he sought any for his own body, came in at the door, whom Pamela, her arms and her tongue rivals in kindness, embracing, said, “Never more welcome, though ever welcome, Zelmane; thou who ever art victorious, hast thou likewise brought thyself away a trophy from death?” “Sweet ladies,” replied she, “who would faint to fight for such divine creatures as you are? and who could have force to fight against you?”

Philoclea, who at first, either dull through excessive dolour, did not conceive her sister’s words; or else suspecting, as she thought, her impossible desire to please her, all being doubtful to trust what they do extremely affect, did misconceive her meaning. She was raising her eyes to examine her ears: but the most trusty of her senses preventing both, by a palpable proof, gave her an absolute assurance; so that ere she could think Zelmane was at all to be embraced, finding herself embraced by Zelmane, she was lifted up to a heaven of joy, as before she had been sunk down in a hell of grief; never absolutely her own; but either ravished or ruined. Spying the blood on Zelmane’s garment, not knowing whether her own, or her enemy’s, she grew pale; and then, looking on her sister, she blushed, suspecting that she suspected the cause of her paleness, conferring it with her former plaints, to be more than a friendly kindness; but Zelmane, fearing what might be the effects of her fear, said, that she expected a congratulation of her victory, and not condoling of past danger, which was acquitted with the speechless answer of an affectionate look, and a passionate pressing of her hand.

Then Pamela, inquiring the perilous course of her short progress, she told how fortified with their fortune, trusting more to it than to her own valour, which, like their beauty, could not but prevail, she had first overthrown the two brethren of Anaxius; and thereafter, fighting with himself, it was her chance, God strengthening her weakness to punish his injustice, to kill him; she could not say overcome him, no, she was not ashamed to affirm, that though he was killed, she thought him not overcome, seeing both he died with opinion, and in action of victory; death preventing the knowledge of his last success. A rare happiness, his life and fortune having both but one bound.

Both highly praising her valour, and admiring her modesty, and glad of their own delivery, whereof they thought her the author, thoughts striving to express themselves the more powerfully without words, they were acknowledging the fame with a grateful countenance, and kindly affecting looks, when Zelmane, not complementally hunting that which she fled, but like one who with a glass reflects the force of the sun somewhere else, earnestly protested that she would be loth to usurp that which was due to another, especially in the owner’s presence. And, turning towards the black knight, who all the time stood aside as her attender, though armed, trembling for fear of one unarmed, who unarmed, would not have been so afraid of an army in arms, she freely affirmed, “There is the deliverer of us all, from whom we receive our liberty, to whom we owe ourselves, since it is that which makes us ourselves.”

Then the black knight, invited by the willing countenance of the princess, abasing his helmet, advanced more fearfully than to a battle, to kiss her hand: when Zelmane, courteously retired Philoclea a little distance from thence, as glad to confer with her, as to give her friend occasion to confer with Pamela, who presently, whilst the roses of his lips made a flower of affection with the lilies of her hands, knowing her own Dorus, at the suddenness of the assault, the moving of her mind was betrayed by the changes of her countenance, the blood of her face ebbing and flowing according to the tide of affection; yet borrowing a mask from hate, wherewith to hide love, she thus charged him, who already had yielded: “How durst you thus presume to present yourself in my presence, being discharged it, when you deserved the uttermost that reason could devise, or fury execute? Hath my dejected estate emboldened you to exalt yourself against me?” Then he, gathering courage from the extremity of despair, thus cleared his intention: “True it is, lady of my life, and shall be of my death, I was worthy then to have been banished from the world. But what of a world of worlds? I was banished from your sight, and, which is worst of all, deservedly. Neither come I now of contempt, but only to testify my obedience, which otherwise at this time might have been construed to a cowardice. Such a love as mine, wedded to virtue, can never be so adulterated by any accident, no, nor yet ravished by passion, as to bring forth a bastard disobedience, whereof my very conscience not being able to accuse my thoughts, I come to clear myself. But now, having performed all that was within the compass of my power, a part of my blood witnessing my affection, which I wish were confirmed by the rest: you may see, directness of my destiny, that no force can force me to anything, much less from your sight, save only your own will, which is unto me a law, yea, an oracle. And now when you see I do it not for fear of others, but only out of a reverence to you; if not for your satisfaction, yet for my punishment, so to persecute him whom you hate, I will go waste the remnant of my wretched days in some remote wilderness as not worthy to be seen of any, since odious in your sight: having, I hope, by many proofs prevailed thus much with your opinion, that after my death you will think there was some worth in me; though not worthy of your love.” When he, full of humble affection, was retiring himself with a courtesy as low as his thoughts; she, thinking enough done to try him, yet without seeming to trust him, whilst, though guilty of grief, her countenance could accuse her of no care, as out of a fresh remembrance, said, “That she would not have Dametas to lose a servant, nor Mopsa a suitor, by her means; and if he would needs return towards the lodges, that he should first expect some employment homewards from her.” Then he, as one, who fallen in the bottom of some deep water, coming to float above, in sight of land, receiveth some comfort, though still in danger, began to re-assemble his dispersed spirits again, looking more cheerfully. But ere his thoughts, every one of them overflowing another, could settle themselves in words, she, preventing the violence of so sudden a change, did call to her sister, by accusing their indiscretion, in holding these two so long by talking with them, from looking to themselves. Which Philoclea allowed, trembling with an earnest fear, to know in what estate Zelmane stood.